


The Little Things

by brooklyn09



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Boys In Love, Caring, Cats, Discovery, Fluff, Habits, M/M, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Minor Injuries
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-04
Updated: 2019-07-04
Packaged: 2020-06-09 12:42:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,348
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19476148
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/brooklyn09/pseuds/brooklyn09
Summary: It's the little things, that only a partner is privy to see, that makes the relationship uniquely special.





	The Little Things

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Lavender_and_Vanilla](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lavender_and_Vanilla/gifts).



> For Lavendar_and_Vanilla from the Rupert Graves Birthday Project Auction. She asked for "Early relationship Mystrade, far enough along in the relationship that they've started to get comfortable and their idiosyncrasies start to show." I hope this suits, I haven't written anything in eight months. It felt good to write something again! Thanks for bidding, hope you enjoy!!

It was the little things, Greg mused to himself as he sat in their study, sipping a cup of tea while perusing the days edition of The Times. He peered over the top of his glasses and gazed at his partner. Mycroft was sitting at his roll-top desk, indulging in his passion for writing fanciful pieces of fiction that he only shared with Greg. He was reluctant at first, but with easy encouragement he shyly handed over one of his favorite works for Greg to read. Mycroft had a true talent for setting a magical scene and exploring the depth of his characters. Greg supported his hobby wholeheartedly. Not only was he captivated by Mycroft's storytelling, he was entranced by how his ideas made it to paper. Greg found himself enthralled by Mycroft's skill at typing, how his long, nimble fingers gracefully ghosted over the keys. In all seriousness, it kind of turned him on. He knew exactly what talents those fingers held, what they could do to bring Greg to the edge of ecstasy and beyond, coaxing him through to the satisfying conclusion of their lovemaking.... 

Greg startled out of his reverie when he realised Mycroft was speaking to him. 

"Is everything ok Gregory?" asked Mycroft with a hint of concern. "I called your name three times before you heard me."

Clearing his throat, Greg replied, "Everything's fine love. Just daydreaming." 

"A pleasant daydream, I hope?", Mycroft asked expectantly. 

"The best," Greg smiled. 

Greg loved the voice Mycroft used when speaking to their cat, Maia. At first, Greg thought Mycroft was speaking to him, but when he entered the kitchen to the sound of "How's my Baby today?" in a soft, lilting voice, Greg was confused, then amused, when he realized he wasn't the "Baby" in question. Mycroft purported to be this frigid, uncaring person, when behind the carefully constructed mask, he was just a big old softie at heart. 

Mycroft was the only person Greg had ever met who, when getting dressed, put his socks on first. Not that Greg had ever had many occasions to see naked people dressing. But he realized when he first noticed it, that this was something out of the ordinary. People usually put their underwear on first right? Then sat down to put on their socks? Mycroft caught him staring one morning and Greg looked away quickly, but not quickly enough. His cheeks flushed, having been caught staring. To his relief, Mycroft wasn't bothered in the least, rationally explaining that his feet are always cold, which is why he is never sockless, and always puts them on first when dressing. Mycroft was so earnest and matter of fact in his answer. It made Greg giddy with affection to find out yet another tidbit about his partner.

Some of Mycroft's reactions, or lack thereof, made him sad. Like the day they were cooking together, and Mycroft burned his wrist on a hot pan. He didn't even flinch, although the mark was an angry red and had begun to blister. 

"Doesn't it hurt?" Greg asked while hurriedly easing Mycroft's wrist under the cool running water from the tap. 

"No, I barely feel it," came Mycroft's calm, detached reply. "I have had much worse."

Greg's heart sank, as he bemoaned the torture Sherlock had described Mycroft suffering in his past service to Queen and Country. He carefully tended to the burn, and silently vowed he would do anything in his power to make sure Mycroft never felt pain again.

One of Mycroft's most surprising mannerisms was how, after they became comfortable with one another, he ended their more vigorous rounds of lovemaking. Greg choked in surprise the first time it happened, thinking he was having an out of body experience or something. Or maybe he was caught in the Twilight Zone. Mycroft slapped his ass and said "Who's your daddy?" After getting over his initial shock, Greg asked Mycroft to repeat himself, thinking he must have misunderstood. Mycroft, in embarrassment, didn't even realize the words he was thinking had left his mouth. He had been mortified. Greg tried to soothe his discomfiture and admitted the slap and dirty talk was actually a turn on. Greg now looked forward to the exclamation almost as much as the orgasm. 

XxxxxX

Mycroft had basically given up on having a romantic relationship in his life. He had had the occasional fling, but had never met anyone he could see forming a true relationship with. People could not be trusted, they only used you for their own interests and hurt you in the end. Or so he thought, until the Detective Inspector came into his life. At first, he viewed the DI as a hindrance or a pawn to manipulate to ensure that he got what he wanted for his brother. But when he realized Greg actually had Sherlock's best interests at heart, his opinion changed. He found himself caring for the other man, and dare he say, falling in love with him.

That was well over a year ago. Of course, due to their own mulishness, it took a while to actually admit their feelings for one another, then a while longer to take the step of moving in together. And there had been a few bumps along the way - Mycroft, not having lived with anyone since uni, and Greg being a bachelor since his divorce. Two 50+ year old men merging households, habits and personalities had been interesting to say the least. But now several months in, they were making a go of it, and Mycroft was the happiest he'd ever been.

Greg had many traits that Mycroft had come to appreciate. Mycroft was reassured that however bad his day was, Greg could make this small smile of his where the corners of his eyes crinkled and that expression had Mycroft grinning like an idiot, the troubles of his day forgotten. Greg was also one of the most empathetic and understanding people he knew. No one had ever really cared for Mycroft before. He knew, without a doubt, that Greg did. And he showed him daily by his words and actions.

Although Greg had helped Mycroft emerge from his protective shell, Mycroft knew too that Greg was totally comfortable, and his true self, with him. Greg thought nothing of going au natural when doing his daily ablutions in the morning, standing naked at the sink, puffing his cheeks out like a blowfish while he shaved. Modesty was not in Gregory's vocabulary. Intimate moments like that, and when they were just relaxing together, were Mycroft's favorite. Gregory rarely made it through a late night movie on the telly. He had this tell tale sign when he fell asleep - Mycroft didn't even have to be looking at him to know he was out. His head would loll back and his mouth would fall open, lips parting with a 'pop'. The first time it happened, Mycroft thought it was cute, a one-off. But it happened again, and again. And soon Mycroft found himself anticipating this endearing act, maybe known only to him, and it made his heart melt. 

Then, there were Greg's more comical habits - like sticking his toungue out when he was concentrating or deep in thought. Sometimes he looked like he was going to bite it right off in his obliviousness. There were the times when he laughed out loud in his sleep, which he claimed to have no recollection of in the morning. His horrendous, illegible handwriting that initially Mycroft found irritating, but then took it as a personal challenge to decipher. Greg had his own brand of shorthand, gleaned from taking crime scene notes on the fly. And finally when he was flummoxed or frustrated, he would distractedly run his hands vigorously through his hair, leaving it spiky and sticking on end. 

Yes, his partner had many idiosyncrasies he had come to learn and love. But he treasured every one of them. It's the little things, Mycroft had come to learn, that only a partner is privy to see, that makes the relationship uniquely special.


End file.
